"Well, I declare!" he exclaimed. "Here's Miss Sue Frierson!--an' well-named too, bekaze ever'body knows that she'd fry a sun ef she had one. Howdy, Miss Sue! Miss Susan-Sue! Ef you are well, why I am too! So it's up an' hop to-day. Dr. Honeyman says she won't be well tell she's better. She had company last night, an' she tried for to nod whiles she was standin' up. It'd 'a' been all right ef her feet had n't 'a' gone to sleep. Thereupon, an' likewise whatsoever--as the Peskerwhalian Bishop says--she fell off'n her perch, an' had to be put to bed back'ards. What? You don't know the Peskerwhalian Bishop? Well, his hardware name is William H. Sanders, of the county aforesaid, Ashbank Deestrick, G. M. "Cally-Lou? Well, I hain't seed the child to-day, but she's up an' about; you'll hear her whistlin' fer company presently. Can't stay? Well, good bye, Miss Susan-Sue; mighty glad I met you when I did. So long, or longer!" Bowing Miss Frierson out, though she was invisible to all eyes, Mr. Sanders came back toward the kitchen talking to himself. "Well, well! I hadn't seed my Susan-Sue in thirteen year, an' she's jest the same as she was when she engaged herself to me--eyes like they had been jest washed, an' the eend of her nose lookin' like a ripe plum! But sech is life whar we live at. Howdy, Adelaide? Howdy, Lucindy? I hope both of you have taken your stand among my well-wishers." "La, Mr. Sanders, how you does run on! I b'lieve you er lots wuss'n you used to be!" "Well, Lucindy, it's mighty hard for to make a young hoss stand in one place. He's uther got to go back'ards or forrerds, or jump sideways. I've jest begun to live good. I feel a heap better sence I was born in the country whar Miss Adelaide spends her time an' pleasure." "Now, Bishop, tell me, please, if you were really talking to Miss----Miss----" "Frierson--Miss Susan-Sue Frierson." Mr. Sanders supplied the name to Adelaide. He seemed to be filled with astonishment. "Did you hear me talking?" he asked in a confidential whisper. "Why, I--I didn't know you could hear me! Now, don't go and tell ever'body. She lives in our country, an' she come for to see Cally-Lou." "Well, I'm sorry Cally-Lou didn't see her. I had to punish her to-day, and she's not feeling so well." "Well, I reckon not!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders; "'specially ef you used a cowhide, or a barrel-stave. What have you got to do to-day, and whar are you gwine? I had a holiday comin' to me, an' so I thought I'd come down here an' take you to the Whish-Whish Woods an' hunt for the Boogerman." At once Adelaide was in a quiver of excitement. "Shall we camp out? Must we take guns? How long shall we stay?"